Twas the night before Christmas, the children are napping.
You put it off way too long, it’s time to get wrapping.
You bought your supplies at the Dollar Store.
You’ve got ribbons and bows, wrapping paper galore.
Your one lost set of scissors, you’ve finally tracked down.
But you forgot the tape, so it’s back across town.
You’re back from the store, you feel like a jerk.
Now you clear off the table, so you’ve got room to work.
You unwrap the paper, your mouth starts to gape.
Then you destroy half a roll removing the binding tape.
You grab the first present, measure the paper with such care.
But the paper keeps on rerolling, you pull out your hair.
And just as you think you have it measured just right.
Your scissors have wandered away out of sight.
You find them and make your cut oh so precise.
Oops, the paper’s too small, now isn’t that nice?
You throw the small piece frustrated to the side.
Maybe it will fit another present that isn’t so wide.
You patiently measure the paper once more.
Wait, where are the scissors, did they walk out the door?
You find them again, make your second cut.
This time it just fits perfect, you’ve escaped your rut.
You cover the present around the whole way.
Then tape it paper to present so it can’t run astray.
And folding the sides with oh so much care.
You hold everything in place, until you hear a tear.
Yes, you’ve managed to pull the poor paper too tight.
There’s a visible gash, the present’s corner in full sight.
You swear at St. Nick, pound and stomp your feet.
Rip paper from present, exclaim “Oh Gawd damn Sheeet!”
Measuring, and cutting, once locating the scissors once more.
You wrap the paper around while you swear like a whore.
I hold onto the corner while finding my lost tape rolls.
I use yards of that shit, to make sure that it holds.
I repeat the process with the other side.
Getting it done in one shot, and feeling some pride.
Just a bow or some ribbon to make it look fancy.
Then a name tag to finish, I break down in a dancey.
My jubilation is epic! Nobody rocks it like me!
Then I break down and cry when the rest of the presents I see.
This torture will take me the rest of the night.
Maybe after a drink or two, things will finally go right?